


Motel

by hedonisticnightmares



Series: #SpnStayAtHome [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23987605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedonisticnightmares/pseuds/hedonisticnightmares
Summary: Sam and Dean own a crappy motel. Dean has some unresolved issues from his youth.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: #SpnStayAtHome [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697713
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Motel

This wasn’t the life he’d had in mind for himself. He thinks if things had gone differently, if maybe he’d grown a damned spine at some point, that maybe he’d be somewhere else, doing something else. Maybe he’d be on tour, rocking out every night, and drowning each and every last one of his pathetic sorrows in booze or babes or even just the head-splitting, finger-numbing, wide-open feeling of a solo and an epic guitar riff. 

He’d almost done it. Once. Before everything. He’d been so fed up, so fucking done with everything, that he’d packed his bag, grabbed his guitar, and would have skipped town that night. 

There had been a boy back then too. With soft, slightly chapped, kissable lips and eyes so blue he could have drowned in them. He wanted to drown in them every time he looked at him. And every time they made out behind the gym or in the backseat of his car, Dean had thought he’d be able to do absolutely anything if he could just have that, have him whenever things got rough. They were going to go together. It was the plan. They were going to leave town, leave everything, and never look back, and all Dean had to do was be there with his things when it was time to get on the bus.

Except that Sam existed. Sam, with his big, moony, puppy-dog eyes, and that waver in his voice whenever he thought he’d done something to make Dean mad at him. Sam, who seemed to think he could do anything, even when he felt like he was going to break from the weight of it all. He loved him, but he hadn’t been part of the plan because he was just a kid, and he’d be fine without Dean. He had just opened their bedroom window, ready to disappear into the night, when Sam had woken up. 

“Dean? What’re you doing?” he’d asked around a yawn. 

He’d known right then, as soon as he’d heard his voice, that he was screwed. There was part of him that nearly went anyway. The part of him that had never really formed into a spine nearly had him climb out that window like he hadn’t heard a single thing the kid had said. A boy and his future were waiting for him, and all he had to do was go. 

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. 

“Nothin’, Sammy,” he’d said. He’d tried to keep the sound of evaporating hope from coloring his voice. It was difficult. “Just gettin’ a little air is all. Go back to sleep.” 

And because Sam trusted him, he did exactly that. Just flopped over and fell right back asleep. And Dean shoved all of his things under his bed, and cried himself to sleep that night. Because it was all too much, his heart was breaking, and he wanted, desperately, to be on a bus to anywhere but there with a blue-eyed boy’s arms around him. But he could never have really left Sam behind. Not really. Not like that. 

That had been years ago, but he should have known it was going to chart the trajectory of the rest of his life. It was one of those decisions that either made or broke you, and Dean was fairly certain that he was broken. Had been for a long time. 

“That’s it, Sammy, I’m callin’ it.” Dean hefted his toolbox onto the counter. “This whole place needs rewiring. “I can keep putting band-aids on the problems that pop-up, but,” he dropped his voice and leaned in, “We’re running a real risk if we don’t get the jump on a more permanent solution. Stuffs not really up to code, man.” He straightened up again as the little bell over the door jingled, and Sam plastered a tight smile on his face to greet the family that walked in. Dean sighed and dragged his toolbox into the back office with him as he went. 

For reasons Dean still had yet to discern, after their dad died, Sam had decided he wanted to take over the motel he’d owned, and because Dean could never say no to him, he had agreed to help. It wasn’t like he’d been doing a lot at the time anyway. Odd jobs by daylight, playing dive bars and seedy clubs by moonlight. It made him feel like a fraudy shell of an adult not to have any actual stable source of income, so it made sense to sign on for something that seemed a little more long-term. It also seemed less pathetic to stumble into a motel room, half-drunk, at 2 am, at almost 30 years old, if he lived there anyway. 

The motel was, in a word, shit. 

Technically, considered the family business, their grandfather had purchased it in the ‘50s, and their dad worked there until he eventually took it over himself. If it had been up to Dean, he probably would have lit the place on fire a long time ago—they’d spent enough time there as kids after their mom died, and for him, it didn’t come with a lot of great memories. 

It hadn’t been updated much over the years, their dad having been a bit of a traditionalist, and when Sam took over, he was determined to make that their first order of business. He wanted it re-invented. Everything needed to look modern and fresh, and if it hadn’t been for Dean’s slightly more tempered, down-to-earth suggestion of leaning into the retro aspect of the place, he probably would have ended up demolishing it and starting completely over. Which would have been something that Dean would have supported wholeheartedly, if they could have afforded it. They couldn’t. So, the retro thing made sense. It was back in style these days anyway. Sure, they’d need to update the place, put in some charging stations and change the shower heads, maybe paint, but it wouldn’t cost nearly as much as trying to modernize the whole place.

Fortunately, Sam was sensible and agreed. Despite this, Dean could tell he was already figuring out how long it would take them to recuperate the money they’d need to make his vision happen at a later date. 

So, while Sam had busied himself with finding appliances that would give them the most bang for their buck, and setting up a web page so they could start online booking, Dean handled repairs. 

It worked. Sam was the brains, the logistics, and Dean handled the heavy lifting. He had gone to tech school after he’d gotten his GED, officially became an electrician, which was how he’d been making a lot of his money before. He’d always been good with his hands, building things and taking them apart, and since one of the few things he’d liked about school before he dropped out had been his shop class, it seemed like a good move. Sam had gone off to business school a few years later and, miraculously, had come back. 

Dean was so happy to have him around again that when he’d asked if they could do this together, he’d hardly given it a second thought. 

\---

He was busy rummaging through the mini fridge, looking for something that wasn’t rabbit food, when Sam joined him in the office. 

“Dean, how much are we talking? The budget is already stretched thin as it is, I don’t know how much more we can afford to do until things get a little more consistent around here.” 

“Bingo.” Dean pulled a saran wrapped slice of pie from the back of the fridge and sat down at the desk they shared to unwrap it. “I dunno, Sammy,” he pulled the fork from the top drawer. Sam liked to be prepared, so he always kept one there.

“Dude, get your own fork!” Sam’s arms were crossed over his chest, and he looked like someone’s disapproving mother. 

Dean pointed at him with the fork, “Settle down, all right? I’ll wash it.” His voice might have pitched a little higher than sounded totally honest. He gave half a shrug and dug into his pie.

“Yeah, you said that last time, and then I had a used fork in my drawer for two days.”

“Look, are you gonna spend all day whining about a fork, or do you want to talk about how we’re going to keep this place from bankrupting us in the next six months?” 

Sam pressed his lips together in that way that made his dimples stand out unflatteringly, and sighed through his nose, “Fine. Whatever. Just make sure you put it back after you wash it.” He rolled his shoulders and ran his hands over his hair, “So, then, what’s the plan? We just keep going until we make some money and hope we don’t burn half our guests to a crisp in the process? Or do we spend whatever we have left, and hope we can make it all back before the bank comes for us?”

Dean rolled his eyes and took another bite of pie. “Look, it’s not gonna come to that, all right?” His mouth was half full, and he waited until he finished chewing to continue speaking. “I can do the wiring, and I even know a guy who’ll probably help us out for next to nothing.”

Sam cocked a skeptical brow, “Really?”

“Yes, ‘Really,’” he mimicked. “I finished top of my class, Sammy. Have a little faith. And he, uh, owes me a favor. Anyway, it’s gonna cost us supplies and time, not labor, and everyone knows that’s the gut punch. So, we’ll be fine.” He finished his last bite of pie, and stood up, lifting the plate, fork, and his eyebrows for emphasis, to show Sam he intended to take it away to wash.

Sam frowned at him. 

“I’ll look into some stuff and get us a couple of estimates in the morning. Don’t worry, little brother, I’ll get it taken care of.” He patted him the shoulder with one hand and headed for the door. 

“Oh, hey, Dean,” Sam spun around after him, “Can you take those towels at the desk up to 6? He called up here right after I checked that family in. I'd have put him at the other end, but he specifically requested to be far from everyone else when he checked-in the other day. Said he doesn’t sleep much and didn’t want to bother people. Figured you’d be faster than Gladys.” 

“Sure thing, Sammy. But,” he pointed at him, “You know Glads is doing her best,” he said seriously.

Sam smiled briefly, and he looked a little more relaxed again, “Yeah, Dean, I know.”

Gladys needed to be fired and they both knew it, but neither of them had the heart (or the guts) to break it to a chain-smoking old lady that she was too slow to clean the rooms anymore, so Dean usually picked up her slack without issue.

Dean returned his smile and banged his palm against the door frame, “Don’t work too hard, Sammy. We’ll have this place shining like a new penny before you know it. I’ll grab my tools when I come in tonight.” He left him to it, and promptly set his plate and fork behind the desk to take care of later, mostly because Sam had felt the need to complain about it. He had said he’d wash them, not when. Worst case, Sam just left them there until he came in to cover the overnight shift. Best case, he washed them himself and complained about it later.

They couldn’t afford any extra hands at the moment, and so they had a system worked out where Sam covered day shifts at the front desk, and he came in and worked overnight, and then did his repairs that morning until around midday. Then he’d go to his room and sleep until time for him to cover the desk again. The only time this routine changed was if one of them had something to do, which was rare, or if Dean decided he wanted to play a show somewhere, something he had more or less put on hold for the time being, given their current circumstances. Sam didn’t like that they were stretched so thin, and he was pinching pennies every chance he got so they could afford at least one extra person by summer. Dean minded it less. He didn’t sleep much anyway, a few hours at a time at best, and the night shifts were easy. He usually ate or surfed the internet until someone called for something. 

The towels were on a shelf behind the desk, and Dean grabbed them, and a few toiletries for good measure, before heading over to room 6. He didn’t mind playing maid, but he wondered what kind of entitled d-bag requested to be specifically placed away from everyone else? Probably a serial killer. He'd have to listen for muffled noises when he dropped everything off. The last thing they needed was a scandal of that magnitude. They'd be sunk for sure.

Sam had been doing a good job of keeping people out of his way while he worked on specific projects, his most recent being wiring checks in all the rooms to make sure no one would be immediately fried, and patching up anything that needed immediate attention. Unfortunately, a lot of the rooms needed patching. He’d done rooms 1-10 already, but it was the principle of it. If it was a serial killer, he could have been a little more considerate.

Dean knocked at the door, towels and toiletries balanced in one hand as he waited. When he got no response, he knocked again, a bit more aggressively. “Housekeeping,” he called through the door. He listened for the sounds of smothered screams, but didn’t hear any. 

He wasn’t about to walk this stuff all the way back to the front desk, and he was in the midst of reaching for his master key when the door finally swung open.

“Sorry about that, I...” came a slightly gravelly voice.

Dean had to bite his tongue to keep himself from making any rude remarks, and took a moment to collect himself as he stuffed his key back in his pocket, before he plastered a fake smile on his face and finally looked up into drown-you-blue eyes. 

He felt the way his fake smile melted right off of his face, but something in his brain wasn’t quite processing what he was seeing. 

The man in front of him, the one he had half hoped would be the guy whose room caught on fire first if he didn’t fix the wiring quickly enough, was not at all dressed. He held a small towel wrapped around his hips, and except for that and a silver cross that hung around his neck, not a stitch else. Of course, it wasn’t his nakedness or the fact that he was easily the most attractive person he’d ever seen that upset Dean. He’d seen plenty of naked dudes before, and most of them had been good-looking.

No, it was that cross and those eyes. He’d seen the cross before, had held it in his mouth at one time, and he’d wanted to drown himself in those eyes. When he slept, sometimes he still did.

“Shit,” he said, and took a step back, half breathless, the towels still in hand. It felt like being sucker-punched. Like being tackled without knowing you were in the middle of a football game or being hit by a goddamned train. 

“Dean…?” He was looking right at him, a little crease between his brows. His head was tilted a little, like he wasn’t quite sure that what he was seeing was real. 

Dean considered, for a moment, playing the whole thing off. ‘Nope. Sorry, wrong guy. Here are your towels, let us know if you need anything else,’ and then walking away as quickly as possible. And damn it, why was he still holding the towels at all?

“Um, uh,” his lungs weren’t working properly, and neither was his brain, and he was an adult now, so none of this was supposed to be happening to him at all. He wasn’t ever supposed to see him again. 

“It- it’s me… Castiel,” he adjusted his towel and shifted his weight. “I don’t know if you remember-”

“Yeah,” Dean rasped out before he could finish. “Yeah, Cas, I remember.” How could he forget? The mere suggestion that he could ever forget him sounded like the start to a terrible joke. He hadn’t meant to do that. Hadn’t meant to call him by that old familiar nickname or admit that he had ever known him at all. “Uh, here- here are your towels.” He forced his feet forward again. He didn’t know how he had managed to make his tongue work. 

“Could you- would you mind coming in and setting them on the dresser for me? It’s just… I literally just jumped out of the shower, and I’m not certain I’ll make it back inside with my dignity intact if I try to take them from you myself.” 

Dean hadn’t realized that he’d been staring at the cross around his neck until his eyes snapped up to meet Castiel’s at his request. Yes, he minded. He couldn’t think of anything he minded more at the moment. Gouging his own eyes out sounded preferable to entering the motel room of this particular old flame. 

“Yeah, sure thing,” he heard himself say faintly. He couldn’t help it. Not for the first time in his life, he was drowning in blue. 

Castiel moved back into the room, the towel held tightly around his waist with one hand as he went. 

Dean followed after him. All he had to do was put the towels down and then get the hell out of Dodge. If there was one person on this earth he’d never thought he’d see again, it was Castiel Novak. 

Castiel had disappeared into the bathroom, and Dean jumped when the door to the room swung shut on its own. They were supposed to do that—he knew they were supposed to do that—but his nerves were shot, and he couldn’t help it. Castiel’s suitcase was open on the bed, and there was a laptop folded closed on the little desk near the dresser, but apart from that, there wasn’t a lot else to indicate why he was staying. Dean put the towels on top of the dresser and headed for the door again. He didn’t need to know why or for how long he was staying; he just needed to make sure that Sam never made him come back to this room as long as Castiel was checked into it. 

“It’s been a long time.” 

Dean’s hand was literally on the door when he heard Castiel’s voice from across the room, and he nearly leapt out of his own skin at the sound of it. He cleared his throat and straightened up so he looked less like he’d been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar before he turned around to face him. He was a grown man. He had just been caught off guard. He could handle this. 

“Yeah,” he said as he looked across the room at him. It was the first really good look he had taken of him since he’d realized who he was. It was easy to mark the similarities between the Castiel he had known as a teenager and the one that stood before him now. His hair that still seemed to stand out in every direction, those soul-piercing blue eyes, and the cross that hung around his neck, were all exactly the same as Dean remembered. But he was different too, in ways that made Dean’s mouth go dry with desire. He’d been a little awkward when they had been in high school, kind of skinny and without any real sense of fashion—Dean had found it cute back then, had liked the way he almost seemed to swim in the clothes he wore. He had clearly put on some muscle since then, broadened in a way that made Dean wonder how it would feel to be held down or pinned against a wall by him, and now sported an unnecessarily attractive amount of scruff. He’d always looked a little worn out, and that hadn’t changed, but in loose sweats a t-shirt, the effect was enhanced, and he looked more like a guy that had been made to look tired for a movie than one that actually was. He was gorgeous, and all Dean knew was that he had absolutely no business thinking those thoughts about a guy he hadn’t seen in over a decade, and would have liked to avoid entirely. 

Dean averted his eyes and nodded, “Yeah, it has. Sorry, I, uh, well, you know, I didn’t expect to see you when… at all, actually.” He scratched the back of his neck and shuffled uncomfortably. “I’d have brought champagne if I’d have known,” he said, trying for a joke. He was pretty sure it fell flat though. Castiel didn’t even crack a smile. 

“How are you?” Castiel asked. He crossed to put his suitcase back together and set it aside before he sat down on the edge of the bed. 

“You know,” Dean shrugged, “Can’t complain. Livin’ the dream. I work here, so there’s that. You? I mean, you ever...I dunno, settle down or anything?” Dean wanted to make himself vanish. He wondered if he could will himself away if he thought about it hard enough. He hadn’t needed to ask that. He didn’t really need to know anything about Castiel, because knowing things about him was just going to mess him up more than he already was. Looking at him now was like looking at a ghost. An incredibly attractive ghost, but a ghost nonetheless. One he’d thought he’d left behind a long time ago. 

Castiel tilted his head, “Much the same, I suppose. I wouldn’t say I’ve settled, no. I don’t think I’d be here if that was the case.”

There was an awkward silence that passed between them, and Dean had no idea how to make it so that he could excuse himself without looking rude, or what to say that would break the tension between them, so he just bit his tongue and hoped Castiel would beat him to it. He didn’t want to ask any more questions because he didn’t think he wanted the answers to them. 

“I wrote to you,” Castiel said finally. “I called.” 

Dean immediately regretted having said nothing. It was, quite possibly, one of the last things on Earth he wanted to talk about. He should have known Castiel would cut right to the chase. He hadn’t been good at small talk, even when they had been young.

“Yeah, well, you know me. Not much of a pen pal type,” he said dismissively. “Hey, look, it was nice to see you,” his throat felt a little tight, and he had to look away, “But I should, uh, get out of here. I’ve got a shift tonight.” 

“Dean,” Castiel stood and crossed the room so there was less than a foot of space between them. His voice was firm, full of conviction, “I waited for you.” 

Dean felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Castiel was close enough to touch, and he was looking at him, into him with those eyes of his, and Dean Winchester was just drowning. 

“We were kids,” he said desperately. “Cas, we were just kids.” And although Castiel wasn’t touching him, he felt completely pinned in place. 

Castiel narrowed his eyes, “We had a plan. I waited for you. Almost an entire week, I waited in the next town over. I called. And when I couldn’t wait any longer, I wrote to you. Tell me why.” 

Dean swallowed, his tongue thick in his mouth as he tried to regain himself again. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected he would have to explain himself, that Cas would even care about something that had happened so long ago. Dean still cared, but that was different. He thought about it when he was lonely or when he’d had too much to drink and no one to distract him, but that was because he had imagined so often how different his life could have been if he had just gone. 

He had gotten Castiel’s calls. His letters. He had dodged the phone and burned the letters. He could admit, over a decade later, that it hadn’t been the right thing to do. He could admit that he hadn’t been fair. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean said. He cleared his throat again and ducked his head, “I, uh, I shouldn’t have just ghosted you like that. It wasn’t fair of me. But, you know, we were kids, man. It never… we never...”

“Don’t,” Castiel said sharply. “Don’t minimize our feelings, my feelings, by attributing them to childhood. Whatever you felt, it was real to me. All of it.”

Dean felt like something inside of him was going to burst, and he quickly tried to fix his mistake, because that wasn’t what he meant. “Cas, that’s not how-”

He cut him off, “I left that night, Dean. And everything from that point in my life forward revolved around the fact that you weren’t there. Because I thought you would be. You promised me that you would be.” 

Dean looked into his eyes again, and all he could see in them was his own pain, years of it, reflected back. How did it feel to drown in your own pain? Pain that you had created? Dean thought maybe it felt like heartbreak.

There were decisions in life that could make or break you. He’d made his and it had broken him. He realized now that his choice had robbed Castiel of his own. 

“Why didn’t you just come back?” he asked, desperate to push away the unexpected wave of despair Castiel had brought with him. “You could have. We could have just…” he wanted to say they could have stayed together, but something told him that wouldn’t have been what would have happened. Dean didn’t think he would have been able to hold onto him. Eventually, his own issues, as well as Castiel’s would have gotten between them, and they would have gone their separate ways. They were young, and neither of them had known how to buffer themselves against the things the world had thrown at them, so they’d clung to each other.

Castiel drew back from him, “You know why. You know I couldn’t go back there. Not after… I disobeyed them for you. Because I thought we’d go together. And you couldn’t even bother to tell me to my face that I was going to be on my own. After we- after everything.”

If Castiel had hit him, it would have been less painful than hearing him say those things. He could have dealt with physical blows. He was used to it. The pain. He knew he could have handled it. And Castiel did too. Which was probably why he didn’t bother raising a hand to him. He knew he didn’t need to. 

It wasn’t supposed to hurt this much. Knowing where your life would have diverged into something else. Something better. Or if not better, than at least something you could call your own. He wasn’t supposed to care anymore about the boy from the orphanage who wore old, over-sized sweaters, and who had seen him when no one else did. It wasn’t supposed to still feel like he had lost a piece of himself the night he had chosen to stay with Sam, rather than slip out of his window and run away with the arms of that boy wrapped tight around him. 

But he did. And he hated himself for it, because he had missed it all. 

“Were you ever even serious about leaving? Or was it just something you said? Something I was supposed to read between the lines to understand was one of your jokes?” 

“It wasn’t- it wasn’t like that.” Dean could hear the break in his own voice, could feel the break in his chest that had settled there years ago and had never really gone away or healed, and he almost couldn’t keep the tears back. “I wanted to go with you. More than anything. My feelings for you were real. I had my bags packed, my guitar. I wanted to go.” 

“Then what stopped you?” Castiel’s voice was low and cold, and his eyes had gone just as hard. 

“This!” Dean stretched his arms out to indicate the room. When Castiel’s brows drew together, confusion evident on his face, Dean wiped his own eyes furiously and tried again. “This,” he repeated more calmly. “All of it. My little brother. I couldn’t leave him. I thought I could. I thought I wouldn’t care, but I did. I do. I hate this place, and I’m helping him rebuild it, because I love him, because he’s my kid brother, and I care too damn much. And because when I made the decision to be here for him, I knew I had to follow through. That I wouldn’t get what I wanted. So, I couldn’t-” he took a deep breath and tried to collect himself, “I couldn’t go with you. And I knew that the second I let myself think of you, or hear your voice, I wouldn’t have been able to do what I was supposed to.”

There was silence between them again, heavy with years of regret and longing, and Dean couldn’t stand it because as much as he wanted Castiel and the life that would have gone with him, he didn’t regret being around when Sam needed him. 

“Say something, goddamnit.” Dean hated uncomfortable silences. It was why he talked so much.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” Castiel said. “I came back here thinking I needed to… ‘face my demons,’ as they say. That I needed to look at the places I had been and where I’d come from in order to deal with the discontent I’ve felt for so long. I had no idea your family still owned this place, or if they did, that you would be here. I was surprised to find it still here. I thought…” he sighed and looked skyward for a moment, “I imagined you’d have left a long time ago. Followed your dreams. You had so many of them.” 

“Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint,” Dean said meanly. “I stayed a townie.”

Castiel’s hands were on him then, unexpectedly cupping his face, and Dean felt his heart stutter hard in his chest. He felt like he was falling into the sea.

“Dean, that isn’t what I meant and you know it. You just…” Castiel’s eyes were fixed to his, like he could find whatever it was that he wanted to say in them. “You’re so beautiful,” he said finally. 

And somehow Dean knew he didn’t mean it in the way so many people had said it to him in the years before when they’d whispered it over drinks or between kisses. It brought tears to his eyes, real, unfettered tears, that he couldn’t have held back if he’d tried.

At some point, Dean’s fists had clenched at his sides, and now he unfolded his hands and laid them tentatively over Castiel’s. He needed to stop this. He was never going to be able to go back to the way things were, the way they had been since he’d made the decision not to leave, if he let Castiel exploit that crack in his chest any further. 

“Cas,” he managed, and he shook his head just the slightest bit, “I’m broken, man. I’m so messed up, and I’ll probably die here. I’ve come to terms with that. I’m sorry if- if I made things harder for you by not leaving with you, you know I didn’t mean it. I… I cared a lot about you. I never wanted to hurt you. But that was then and I’ve…” he swallowed back the part of him that wanted to give in, because he needed to say this. He needed to put all of this behind him and get on with things. He had a shift later on, and he didn’t want to be thinking about this all night while he worked. “I’ve moved on. I’ve accepted that this is where I am in life, so, you know, I think you should too.” He sniffed and patted Castiel’s hands softly to indicate that the issue had been put to bed, and he should let go of him now. “Good luck with… finding enlightenment or whatever.” 

Castiel did not let go of him, and instead brushed Dean’s tears away with his thumbs, “Can I kiss you, then?” Castiel’s face was very near to his, and he hadn’t taken his eyes off of him even for a second. “For old time’s sake. If you’d have shown that night, I’d have kissed you. Even if only to say goodbye.” His touch softened, and he let his hands drift to Dean’s neck, an out if Dean wanted to take it. 

Of course Dean wouldn’t let Castiel kiss him. It was the exact opposite of what he was trying to accomplish. He didn’t want to live in the past any longer. He just wanted to get on with his life and help Sammy figure out how to keep this place running. 

“All right,” he said softly. And he had no idea why it had come out of his mouth, because it was the exact opposite of what he had meant to say, what he intended on saying. But before he had the chance to take it back, to explain that it had been a slip of the tongue, and what he’d meant to say was ‘All right, that’s enough of that,’ Castiel was kissing him. 

It was slow, at first. His full, slightly chapped lips, pressed gently against Dean’s in that same uncertain way he remembered from before. Maybe if it hadn’t been for that, the memory he’d been living with for years taking shape and becoming solid again, and maybe if Castiel had been forceful with him, hungry and eager, Dean could have pushed him away. Ended it all, stormed out, and saved face. 

But that wasn’t how things were. 

Castiel drew him in a little at a time, slid his arms around his waist, and just kissed him. He didn’t press for more or hold him so tightly that he couldn’t have broken free if he wanted. And still, the feeling cracked Dean’s chest so wide open that he felt like he’d never be whole again. So, it was him that deepened their kiss. Him, who opened his mouth against Castiel’s and pulled him closer. He didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to talk about it, or think about it; he just wanted Castiel to fill him up and stop his hurting. 

His back was to the wall. Somewhere between sliding his fingers into Castiel’s hair and sliding his tongue into his mouth, he had allowed himself to be pressed against it, Castiel’s hands having slid to his hips, and God he hadn’t realized just how satisfying it would be to have Castiel actually pin him against the wall. 

Castiel must have sensed that thinking was not going to factor into this. Rational thought would have allowed Dean to pull away, would have made him realize that sleeping with his probable first love, who things had ended badly with wasn’t the finest idea Dean had ever had, but that was all right. Rational thought wasn’t invited to this party. 

By the time they made it to the bed, Dean was hardly thinking at all, and when Castiel pulled his own shirt over his head, he might as well have never had a single thought in his entire life. 

In the time since they had been apart, Dean had picked up a few tricks, rarely having been too shy to try something new with the people he slept with, but it seemed that Castiel hadn’t exactly been idle either. He was sure in his movements now, and he didn’t hesitate to put his hands and mouth in places that had once made both of them blush. It felt good to be pressed against him, to run his hands along every inch of him, and to moan or laugh or gasp when he did something unexpected. It felt good to want it, to want him.

\---

“You’re welcome to use the shower,” Castiel said after they had both managed to catch their breath again. “If you want,” he added.

Dean couldn’t help himself; he laughed. Castiel sounded so shy and uncertain after having literally made him see stars. It prompted such an alarmed look from him that Dean couldn’t help laughing harder.

Castiel sat up on one arm to see him better, “Dean, why are you laughing? What could possibly be funny about this?” 

“Because,” he said, barely catching his breath, “I think I might cry otherwise.” He covered his face with his hands and tried to get it together, though he knew he probably looked completely ridiculous sprawled naked next to Castiel, in the midst of a few of his screws coming loose, and the thought made him laugh again. 

“Dean,” Cas said gently, and he pulled Dean’s hands away from his face. “I know you’re not good at it, but tell me what you’re thinking. Please.”

“I don’t-” Dean tried and failed to express what all of this felt like to him, how broken open he felt, and how for a little while, Castiel had filled that space, and instead said, “You better not have given me beard burn, you dumbass. The last thing I need is to deal with that on my thighs while I’m trying to work.” Because he couldn’t process everything he was feeling, and he got prickly because he didn’t know how else to deal with it all. 

Castiel rolled his eyes and sighed, “I’ll be sure to remember to shave the next time we have impromptu sex.” 

And that. That squeezed something in Dean’s chest. He didn’t like it at all. 

Dean sat up, “Whatever, man. There can’t be a next time. This was a one-time deal.” He got ready to get up and gather his things, but Castiel caught him by the arm, his grip much firmer than it had been at any point before. 

“There can be,” Castiel said. “If you want it.” He shifted and sat up more fully, took Dean’s hand in his, and interlaced their fingers. “I really will shave.” 

Dean made a sound that was kind of half chuckle, half sob and shook his head, “Why? Because we went together when we were young? Because the sex was good? That doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Because it felt good,” Castiel said. “And I haven’t felt that good in a very long time. I don’t- I’m not saying I have all or any of the answers, but I… missed you. And maybe we were kids once, but we’re not now, and I’d like to get to know you again. If you’d let me.” 

He didn’t know how he was managing it, how this man from so many years before could be shaking the defenses he’d been building around himself for the last ten years. “Cas,” he said, and he could hear the desperation in his own voice as he turned to look at him, “I’m broken. I can barely keep a steady job. I drink too much, and I play gigs at shitty dive bars and hook up with strangers when I want to feel something. I’m not worth much these days except when it comes to fixing things, and I’m not into doing long distance. I can’t leave Sam.”

Castiel shifted closer to him and pressed his forehead to the side of Dean’s, his hand coming up to cup his face again. “Then don’t. I’ll come back here. I’ll stay with you, and maybe one day, you’ll want to leave with me again.” 

There it was again. The shaking of his foundation. “What about you- your life, your job? You left this place for a reason. There’s nothing here.” 

Castiel chuckled, low in his chest, “Do you really think I’d be back here if there was anything much for me where I’ve been? I told you, I’ve been discontent.” He turned Dean’s face toward his and kissed him gently. “You’re here. Seeing you… We can figure it out.” He huffed, “Maybe I’ll work for you and your brother here.” 

Dean sucked in a sharp breath, more Castiel’s air than his own, and he felt it again, the way he could let Castiel fill that massive crack running through him if he just gave into it. 

“We can’t afford you,” Dean said, and he let himself catch Castiel’s mouth with his once more. Just in case. Just to make sure that it was real, that what he was feeling wasn’t something he’d imagined into being. 

“Then I’ll take my payment in something other than money,” Castiel told him. He pulled Dean back onto the bed with him and then straddled his hips and pinned his arms above his head. “I don’t know if things will work between us, but I think we both deserve to find out whether it ever could have.” He slid his hands up from Dean’s wrists and clasped them in Dean’s, while he tightened his thighs around Dean’s hips. 

His cross hung between them and Dean remembered Castiel telling him that it was all he had left of his parents. 

Dean felt breathless, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the thrill of being nearly manhandled by Castiel or because he was drowning once again, but he wasn’t sure it was a feeling he was prepared to give up yet. Castiel leaned in and pressed a kiss against his neck, and Dean tilted his head back and closed his eyes as his fingers curled around Castiel’s. 

“Okay,” Dean breathed.

Castiel drew back far enough to look at him, “Okay?” 

Dean nodded. “Okay. Yes. I want you. Here. With me. I don’t want to let you go again.” He didn’t think Castiel understood how much he was opening himself, how helpless he was to stop it happening. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe this decision would be one that started to help make him. 

A slow smile crept over Castiel’s features, like he was looking right at his thoughts, or like he was just discovering the way his own name had always been scrawled all over Dean’s heart. 

“Shut up,” Dean groused as he averted his eyes in his embarrassment. 

Castiel leaned in and kissed him instead, and Dean felt himself go pliant underneath him. He pulled his hands free of Castiel’s so he could reach up and wrap his arms around his neck.

\---

When it came time for Dean to swap off with Sam, he brought Castiel along with him to the front office. He probably should have been exhausted; they’d spent the remainder of the afternoon in bed together, catching up on all the years they’d missed, in between heated kisses and reverent caresses. It felt a little like living in a dream, and he decided not to think too much about it, because he didn’t want to spoil things if he didn’t have to. He’d only slept a couple of hours in Castiel’s bed, and then forced himself up to get a shower and go back to his room to change clothes so that Sam couldn’t complain that he was late.

Castiel was a little more hesitant about coming along than Dean was about bringing him. Aside from checking in, he hadn’t actually met Sam before. Dean had kept his relationship with Castiel very separate from his home life when they had been young, and though he had mentioned his younger brother, he had never indicated the intent to introduce them. A notion that probably hadn’t been softened when they had started to make plans to run away together. Castiel expressed his apprehension about suddenly being introduced as, not only their new help, but Dean’s maybe-boyfriend. 

“I’m not sure it makes for the best first impression,” he said as Dean pulled him along by the hand. He had shaved and put on a clean button down shirt.

“It’ll be fine. Sammy’ll understand. And he won’t complain about mostly free labor.” He turned to face him just before they rounded the corner to the office, their hands still between them, “Look, I know I don’t exactly deserve it, but trust me on this, okay? If I don’t know anything else, I know my little brother.”

Castiel leaned up and pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead, “We can learn to trust each other again, all right? A little at a time.” 

Dean’s mouth kicked up at one corner, and squeezed his hand before he resumed leading him into the front office. 

Sam was on a call when they walked in, and he scowled at Dean, but kept up his customer service voice with the person on the phone until the call wrapped up. 

“Man, Dean, you left your dishes-” Sam stopped his potential tirade short when he finally caught sight of Castiel, and his brows drew together apologetically. “Sorry, is there something we can help you with? Room six, right?” He gave Dean a pointed look, like he had done something wrong. 

Dean took Castiel by the shoulders and pulled him forward, “Say hello to our newest employee, Sam.” 

Sam’s eyes widened and he looked at Dean, like he might be ready to strangle him, “What?” He looked back to Castiel, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what exactly Dean told you, but we’re not exactly hiring right now.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Relax, Sammy. He’s, uh, well, we don’t really have to pay him. We’ve needed an extra hand around here for a while, you said so yourself. You don’t like us splitting the desk shifts all of the time, and with Cas, we won’t have to as much.” 

“Wait, hang on,” Sam’s brows furrowed, and he came around the desk and put up the “Out to Lunch,” sign that they almost never used, presumably so he could figure out what Dean was trying to say to him without being bothered. “What do you mean we don’t have to pay him? If we have employees, we have to pay them, Dean. That’s how it works.” He said it very slowly, as if Dean might be having trouble understanding him. “Otherwise we’re just, I don’t know, slave owners or something. It’s illegal.”

“I’d agree with you,” Castiel said before Dean could answer. “You can call me… an intern. Unpaid, but with other benefits. I don’t have any real experience, so I don’t think it should be a problem.”

Dean felt himself flush, though Castiel said everything with a completely straight face. 

“Benefits? Look, sir, I’m sorry if my brother, here, gave you the wrong idea, but we just really can’t afford to hire anyone right now. Intern or otherwise.” 

Dean sighed heavily and rolled his eyes before he spun Castiel around by his shoulders and pulled him into a kiss. It was probably slightly more passionate than it really needed to be to make his point, but if he was going to do this, he figured he might as well go all the way.

“Dean!” Sam sounded completely scandalized, and looked equally as horrified when Dean finally bothered to pull away.

“Those are the kinds of benefits he means. Cas, Sam. Sam, Cas,” he gestured to each of them. “I dated Cas when we were in high school, and I didn’t ever bring him around because you know how Dad was.” Dean could feel his nerves starting to catch up with him as he explained himself, and only calmed when he felt Castiel take his hand again. 

“We- I was gonna run away with him, Sammy. When you were still a kid. You probably don’t even remember, but…” he took a deep breath and fought off tears at the memory of having given Castiel up once before. He didn’t think he could do it again, and he needed to make Sam understand that they had to make this work. “I couldn’t leave you behind, so I just stayed, and he went, and I just…” his tears spilled over and he quickly wiped them away, “I don’t want to lose him again, okay? Not right now. So, I thought- I mean, I want the three of us to make this work. We could use the help and, uh, I could use something to look forward to for a change.” 

Dean hated the pained look on Sam’s face, like he couldn’t believe he’d never realized how much Dean kept inside. He wasn’t supposed to know. If Cas hadn’t shown up again, he never would have. Dean would have gone on pretending everything was fine, because it was. Maybe not as fine as it could be, but he didn’t have a terrible life, and he liked being with his brother. 

“I want to stay with him,” Castiel said, “But that won’t be contingent upon my employment here. I’ll find a way to stay regardless.”

Sam looked slightly bewildered, but nodded and tucked his hair behind his ears, “Y-yeah, of course. Dean… why didn’t- I’m sorry, man.” He stepped forward and pulled him into a tight hug, “I didn’t know it was so bad, Dean.” 

Dean let himself have a moment in Sam’s arms, and then patted him on the back, “Yeah, well,” he pulled away, “Cas made it up to me earlier, so don’t worry about it.” 

“Ew, Dean,” Sam scowled, “I’m going home.” He went back around the desk and held up Dean’s plate and fork from earlier, “Make sure you clean this up. Cas, it was nice meeting you. We can talk more about you helping out here tomorrow, and walk you through everything.” Sam ducked into the office to grab his stuff, “For now, keep it in your pants, Dean.” He frowned again, but it was more of a wry smile than an actual frown. 

“Can’t make any promises, Sammy. It’s been twelve, long years, and my long lost love just fell into my lap. I can’t be held responsible for anything that happens for the next two weeks.” 

Castiel fought back a shy smile and Sam just shook his head in exasperation as he headed for the door. “Just wash your dishes.” 

“I’ll… hold him to it,” Castiel promised. “It was nice to finally meet you, Sam.”

Sam smiled, “Yeah, you too. Thanks.” He cut his eyes to Dean, “I’m taking this sign down,” he warned. And then he was gone. 

Dean put the sign back up, took Castiel by the hand and led him around the desk, “I think that went well. Though I know that look on Sammy’s face. He’s going to want to talk about our feelings later. Just you wait.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Castiel leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to the back of Dean’s neck. 

Dean turned to face him and leaned against the door jamb of the office, his lower lip between his teeth, “You don’t know Sam. He’s a total sap.”

Castiel pinned him in with his hands on either side of Dean’s hips and leaned in close, “I have a lot to learn.” 

Dean grinned, “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you everything you need to know.” 

Castiel hovered just in reach, a smile on his lips, but didn’t make a move. 

Dean waited, maybe just a longer than was really fair, but he couldn’t let Castiel think he was too easy. Finally, he leaned in and kissed him, certain in the knowledge that while whatever they were was going to take a lot of work, he wouldn’t find himself making choices on his own anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I'm back! And I'm posting this a little earlier here than I probably should because I'm tired and won't feel like staying up late or doing it tomorrow after work. It was nice to have a little bit of a break, and to have the extra time to work on this week's fic. I am not a person who generally works very quickly, so churning out these fics week after week really takes it out of me! Nothing really spectacular goes on in this one, but I still kind of liked it because of the potential for so much backstory. Obviously, I didn't have time to fit it all into a short fic like this, but while I was writing I had a lot going on in my head about the way that Castiel and Dean initially became acquainted and why they got together when they did, what Cas was doing in the time they were apart, and how Dean's decision not to go with him effected their individual lives. I feel like I could have easily made this one multi-chapter. The things I can't fit on the page are usually my favorite parts of writing anything 😅 Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it 💖 Back on the regular weekly schedule next week!


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